By Tegan
Echoes
Chapter 5: Leading or Following
Hermione was sinking, spiraling deep into the darkness of her own mind. Visions of tortured faces, eyes bulging, mouths wailing flickered in her head like a silent movie. The screams she heard seemed distant and detached from the images she saw. Soon though, the far off screams roared towards her, so that she could hear them emanating from within. The cries layered upon moans upon screams, allowing her to hear nothing beyond the pain. She became consumed by these thoughts, and her screams joined the cacophony of anguish, as her knees began to buckle.
A bright light shot forward, and the terrible images that flashed in her mind dimmed and blurred, as the beam burst into hundreds of tiny exploding sparkles. All that surrounded Hermione glittered and twinkled, and the anguish that she felt began to seep away.
Her world slowly became clearer, and Hermione watched, as the bright falling stars landed and clung to the Dementors' robes and hands, crawling with many spindally legs.
Strange unnatural gurgles and hisses emerged from the foul creatures, and they began to spasm, arms whipping, swatting, and scrambling away from the falling sparkles.
Hermione stared in awe, confused and not fully capable of distinguishing reality from the imagined. Her mind had been dulled from the cold and creatures, and everything was happening far too fast for her to process. Strong arms pulled her up, and a distant voice called her name. She recognized that silky voice and looked up to see a face she knew could not be real. He was lost, dead. Hermione gasped as tears filled her eyes.
Hermione tried to move, but her feet would not lift off the ground. She shuffled weakly, stumbling as she did so.
An awkward step turned into a swish as her body was swiftly, but steadily lifted. As she was carried in strong, safe arms, shehe looked dazedly around her, head flopping like a newborn baby's. Her unfocused eyes watched a blurry Harry floating stiffly in front.
Thick, soft cloth wrapped warmly around her as she was pressed tightly against a solid chest. The frigid wind blew the cloak wildly about, but around her was only warmth. The material scratched against her numbed face with each step.
"Creare Callis," was cast, but Hermione did not hear the words. A soft vibration ran through her body and she sensed a voice. She could feel his heart beating and chest rising and falling, and it gave her comfort.
She snuggled her nose into his chest, and his grip around her tightened. With that safe and warm embrace, Hermione drifted off into unconsciousness.
And as Hermione lay cradled in Snape's arms, she was unaware of all that was going on around her.
She did not see Snape turn swiftly off the path holding, protecting her in his arms. A stiff, unconscious Harry led the way floating through the dense, dark forest. Trees, branches, bushes, and stumps all made way as they neared. Branches lifted, stumps slid, bushes parted magically clearing a path, only to shift back into place, undisturbed moments later.
The strange parade walked on, finally making their way into a small hidden clearing rimmed with rocky slopes. They entered a crack in one of the slopes. A crack that would be known only to one who had explored the forest for many years collecting potion ingredients. Snape guided Harry roughly through the entrance. Harry's head and body bobbed and bumped against the cave walls and ceiling. As Snape lowered him to the floor, Harry's body bounced slightly from the impact. Snape then carefully laid Hermione on the dirt floor, tender fingers caressing her face and hair. Gently he draped his heavy cloak over her limp body. As soon as they were through, the crack molded into a smooth rocky formation, hiding the cave's existence.
Yet, to all this, Hermione was oblivious.
Sometime later, Hermione awoke in a daze, the world shadowed and hazy. She blinked several times focusing on the rounded, jagged stone ceiling above her. She felt weak and sickly, as if having suffered a strong bout with the flu. Her hands and face stung, and her body ached. Her nerves kept jumping, twitching just below the surface of her skin. Her shoes were off and her socks were warm and dry. Dirt and rocks surrounded her; and through her confusion, she slowly sat up leaning on the rocky wall for support. A thick wool cloak slid off her chest gathering at her waist.
She was in a small cave of some sort. The walls were curved, roughly dome-shaped though slanted to form a sharp angle at the far corner. Hermione could not tell where the entrance was, all sides appeared closed and solid. The room was dimly lit, shadows softly playing on the walls from the yellow glow of a wand floating midair near the ceiling.
The cave was moist and cool. And as her breath misted in the chilly air, she was reminded of the dungeons at Hogwarts.
A tall, thin figure was bent over something across from her. She coughed softly and he turned, moving quickly to kneel next to her. Soft, long fingers lightly swept her hair from her eyes, and she looked to see a vision, she had thought lost. He was pale and bruised and cut, claw-like scratches crossed one cheek. His normally silky straight hair was in such disarray, it knotted into thick clumps, which piled unevenly on his tattered robes. His breaths were shallow and forced, but his eyes, though red and glossy from the wind, were deep and thoughtful. His battered image was a vision of beauty to Hermione.
She was filled with relief and gasped, with more emotion than she would have liked to show, "You're alive."
"It would appear so." He spoke quietly, gently, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at her.
He stared into her soft brown eyes a moment too long before another short breath removed all emotion from his face like a flame that had been blown out.
"Give me your hand," He directed dryly. There was a reserved quality to his voice now, as if he were giving a lecture.
She looked over and saw her friend sprawled on the floor. Hermione's recollection of what had happened came back, and she was consumed with worry and concern.
"Is Harry all right?" She made to get up, but found her body still very weak.
"Stay where you are." He placed a hand on her arm. "The boy is unconscious, but he will live. He has an unbelievable knack for surviving impossible situations. It seems, for once, his luck may have carried to you."
She sat back down, and he motioned with his eyes to her injured hand.
She held out her palm. All that she had recently experienced had made her forget about landing on the broken glass at Hogwarts. Snape's fingers gently glided exploring the area where the glass splinters had entered. Hermione was more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. That wasn't to say the experience was entirely unpleasant. His touches and attentions, sent warm tingles through her, lessening the cold, sick feelings she harbored from her recent encounter with the Dementors. Yet, his attentions brought back memories and feelings that were difficult for her to bear.
Snape directed his wand at her palm and chanted a Healing Spell. The glass pieces slowly wormed out of her hands, itching and prickling her as they wiggled to the surface.
Trying to ignore the discomfort, Hermione asked, "The sparkles that drove the Dementors away, were they your Patronus?"
She flinched slightly as a large piece re-opened a wound on her hand.
"Yes," Snape replied, and he lightly brushed the splinters to the floor.
She looked back up at him. "They were lovely. What were they?"
"Spiders. Lynx spiders to be exact. They're small, but quite effective. They tend to cling better than most larger Patronuses." A slight smile emerged on his lips, as he glanced up from her hand. He paused smiling into her eyes, still holding her hand, now pink and sore, but whole once again.
In an instant the smile disappeared. He abruptly let go of her hand, as if it burned hot, and simply stated, "You need to open your other hand." He motioned towards her clenched fist.
Even through unconsciousness, her hand had tightly gripped her wand. Now though, Hermione could not let go.
"I can't," she cringed as she tried in vain to make her hand obey.
He wrapped his hands around her fist rubbing the tight tendons and muscles that had frozen into place.
"Is Hogwarts..."
He cut her off, "I know little more than you."
He gently helped to pry her fingers open, though it was not easy. It took time and patience, so her fingers did not break with the pressure. Sharp pain jetted up her arm, and Hermione winced trying very hard to keep from expressing her discomfort. Her hand looked mangled and aged when he began his Healing Spell.
As he moved to heal her face, Hermione noticed he grimmaced in pain.
"You're injured."
"I'm only bruised. It is nothing to concern yourself with."
She watched him suspiciously. Hermione doubted that a simple bruise would create such a reaction, but decided it best not to force the issue.
She now became aware of how much her face burned and itched, and she could feel cracks in her skin and lips. The sensation was frustrating, she was tempted to scratch and pull at the injured skin.
"Your face is badly wind burned," he said as his fingers followed her cheekbone down to her chin.
"We were caught in the storm on our way back from Hogsmeade."
His head shot up at this statement.
"What do you mean on your way back? What in the hell were you thinking coming back to the castle!" His words were a harsh contrast to the gentleness of before.
"We didn't have any choice. The castle was under attack, and Harry and I went to Hogsmeade through a hidden tunnel. We tried to go for help, but the storm, and Voldemort's followers forced us back."
Their argument was broken by a low moan sounding from across the cave. Their attentions now focused on Harry.
Hermione noticed Snape wince sharply, as he turned to look at the still unconscious boy.
"Will you at least let me take a look at your injuries?" She coaxed.
Snape glared at her skeptically.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.
"You're hurt. You can hardly breathe." She paused for a moment before adding, "I'm sure I can handle looking at your chest with out losing control."
Surprise spread on his face at her boldness, but he removed his tattered robes and unbuttoned his shirt.
"One of those God forsaken trees slammed me into a wall. They have so many branches, it was impossible to watch them all."
He breathed in uncomfortably. "I have some bruising on my back as well, but the worst of it is right here," Snape said pointing to his ribcage.
The skin on the left side of his ribcage was swollen and bruised purple, red and black. The dark hues of the injury contrasted against his pale stomach. It looked very painful.
His muscles flinched as her hand drew near. She could feel his eyes bore into her as she examined him.
"Several of your ribs look broken."
Snape seemed unimpressed with her assessment.
She suddenly realized how difficult any movement would have been, and asked incredulously, "You carried me all the way here in your condition?"
"Would you have rather I left you there?" He raised his eyebrows slightly as he spoke.
"I can't mend broken bones, but I can cast some general Healing Spells, and wrap it up tightly. That should do for a while. You'll need to remove your shirt completely."
She picked up his robes to begin turning them into bandages.
"You are not tearing my robes to shreds," he grabbed one end.
"Your robes are ruined." She said sticking three fingers through a particularly large rip.
He sighed and said, "Continue."
She smiled slightly. She knew he would relent. He always had. It was surprising how easily they could fall back into similar patterns.
The implications of that made her very nervous.
She lightly ran her hands over his bruised side, murmuring the incantation. His skin, despite the bruising, was so warm and familiar. She reluctantly pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, concentrating only on the Healing Spell.
As she was tying up the last of the bandages, Snape closed his eyes relaxing slightly. He breathed in, this time more deeply and smoothly. Hermione looked up at him, studying him. It had been a great while since they had been this close, spoken this easily. He still looked like he had been through hell, but his features were softer than they had been moments before. He opened his eyes, and they gazed at each other in silence. Hermione felt like Snape was on the verge of saying something, when Harry stirred.
Hermione let out a deep breath and looked away. Harry's wakefulness was a mixed blessing. Hermione was grateful that he was all right, and his presence kept her from saying or doing anything that she might later regret. However, she felt that she may have just missed something important.
"Potter, I see you've had to be bailed out of trouble once again," Snape spat as he quickly threw on his shirt.
"What happened?" Harry asked weakly.
"We were attacked, by Dementors. Do you remember?" Hermione prodded gently.
Harry nodded and made to sit up.
Looking down at his legs, he said quietly, "They were all around us before I knew what was happening. I didn't have time..." Harry's voice trailed off.
Hermione realized that Snape's cloak was still covering her and she felt sure that Harry would suspect something. She stood up unsteadily handing Snape his cloak and, without a word, went to sit next to Harry.
Harry looked up at Snape.
"Why aren't you at the castle?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Dumbledore ordered me to protect you. Had you stayed in the castle, rather than trying to play hero, I would be there right now."
Snape narrowed his eyes at him, "Your complete disregard for your own life, is of no surprise, but I would have thought that you would have more sense by now than to endanger you friends for a chance at fame." There was an iciness to his voice.
"I didn't try to endanger anyone. The castle was under attack, and I was trying to help," Harry almost yelled defensively.
Hermione knew she needed to intervene.
"It's true. I told you, we tried to escape to safety, to get help, but we couldn't."
Snape's face showed such strong contempt, that Hermione doubted if he would believe anything they said.
"Have they stopped the attack?" Harry directed his question at Hermione, though Snape chose to answer.
"At the time that I found you two, the wards on the castle were still working, so no Death Eater could enter. You would have been much safer within the walls of Hogwarts."
"So Dean and Trevor might still be alive," Hermione stated hopefully.
"It's possible, if they hid in an inner room of the castle." Snape avoided looking at her as he spoke.
"What was the Curse that caused the trees to attack?" Harry asked.
"Voldemort placed several strong, Dark Curses on the trees using ancient magics." He glared at Harry. "Dumbledore was able to stop the initial spell, the one that merges people with the trees, but the final Curses were more difficult."
He paused for a moment continuing impassively, "You cannot reverse the Curse, once it is cast, you can only stop the trees, vanquish them. The humans within are lost forever."
Hermione felt as if she had been slapped with his last statement. There was no hope for the victims of the trees.
"When can we return to Hogwarts?" She asked quickly.
"You will not, at least not until it is safe. I will check on the castle in the morning."
Hermione wanted to disagree, but thought any attempt would be futile. Instead, she said nothing, and neither Snape nor Harry ventured to speak, so that the only sounds Hermione could hear were their breaths and soft movements.
As they sat in silence, Hermione realized that from her new vantage point, she had a perfect view of Snape and he of her.
She uncomfortably veered her eyes at other things, finding the rock formations particularly interesting. Unfortunately, there is only so much interest rocks and dirt can hold for one so exhausted as Hermione. Soon, her head became heavy and she had difficulty keeping her eyes opened and focused.
"You should sleep, both of you," Snape said. "I have no chocolate, and rest is the only real cure for the Dementors." He paused and added sarcastically, "Unless of course you wish to show the world how brave and strong you are by collapsing again?" This statement was directed at Harry, but Hermione felt distinctly put off by his snide remark.
Eventually though the two did fall asleep, Hermione using Harry's chest as a pillow. Unbeknownst to her, Snape watched silently wishing for the first time in his life that he was the Boy-Who-Lived.
Thank you for reading and reviewing Madam Arianna, prinzess-pippi, Shelby, Isis, Spike-Lover, PowerLeca, sweetness, erisnymph, Scarlet Rose, and Linteloteiel the Elf Slut.
Special thanks to Fleab whose question inspired this alternate ending to Chapter 4:
Hermione dove into the cold snow as dozens of flying chainsaws jetted towards her. The wild cries and screams now mixed with the sounds of wood being sawed into, as the chainsaws dismembered the wicked trees, leaving huge piles of discarded branches, logs, and sawdust.
As Hermione surveyed the carnage, she exclaimed, "At least Hogwarts won't have a firewood shortage this winter!"
(SOOOOO STUPID!! I KNOW)